


Wammy's Pet

by K (Thiswasmydesign)



Series: Wammy's House Series [8]
Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga), Death Note: Another Note
Genre: Dogs, Fluff with a side of evil, Gen, Near's 6th birthday, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Wammys boys get a dog, bit more character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 22:06:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13773534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thiswasmydesign/pseuds/K
Summary: Mello gets Near a present for his birthday.This is why we can't have nice things...





	1. Chapter 1

"Hey Near, look what I found!" A seven year old Mello bounded in to the room on the younger boy's sixth birthday. Matt dutifully followed him in, slumping in one of the chairs without looking up from his games console once.

Near looked up from his toys and expressionlessly considered the bundle in Mello's arms. Whatever it was gave off a foul smell, wet and musty and unclean. Within the bundle made by Mello's black jacket, something was moving.

"If it's a rat, put it back where you found it and get a shot," Near suggested.

"It's not a bloody rat!" Mello thought he was such a grown up because he knew swear words at the age of seven. Near and Matt didnt tell him any worse ones, fearing the results if they did. "It's your birthday present!"

Near eyed the bundle, considering his perfectly white pyjamas.

"Could you at least clean it up first?" He requested, going back to his toys.

"You don't even want to see it?" Mello looked devastated. Near kept his expressionless outer shell, but internally he softened.

"Clean it up," he suggested, "and then i can see it when it looks its best."

"Okay! Come on Matt, you can help."

Long suffering Matt got to his feet, focus still on the games console, and left with Mello.

* * *

 

  
Near studied the scrawny, underweight bichon frise puppy with his usual emotionless expression. At least it was clean now, and that had explained the smell - wet dog.

Cleaned up, its fur was almost white. It was possible that Mello had considered that it matched Near's hair.

"Mello, you said you found this?" Near asked, looking at the collar around the dog's neck. It was too small, almost constricting - this little dog had an owner already.

"I did," Mello nodded. "It doesnt have a home..."

"But, Mello," Near was patient. "It has a collar."

"But no tag! Its owner must have thrown it out!"

Possible, Near considered, but unlikely. This was an expensive pedigree dog, that had probably escaped some fancy rich person's house at some point. They were probably looking for it.

"Mello, i can't keep her," Near told his friend.

"But I found her for you!" Mello exclaimed.

"She's all white and fluffy and she even has your look - see."

Near looked at the dog and saw nothing of the sort. It was a dog; yes it matched his hair, but he wasnt going to anthropomorphise it just because it was Mello that brought it for him.

"We have to at least put posters up," Near told him. "See if anyone claims her."

* * *

  
The next week passed in a race, Near printing posters and getting other kids to distribute them, Mello and Matt following and tearing them down.

The race was won when Near cheated, starting to have the others put the posters through letter boxes instead of pin them up.

A little girl, younger than the Wammy's boys, came with her mother to claim the puppy. Near handed it over without reluctance. He hadn't become attached to the small dog.

Mello raged for days about how 'that family' had money and could buy a hundred dogs if they wanted to. Near patiently pointed out that wih the money L earned, they could do the same if Wammy would only let them and if they expressed an interest.

"But that was meant to be your present!" Mello whined at Near.

"Well, you could ask Wammy if you could actually buy a dog rather than steal one, even a run away one."

Mello had been inspired; he hadn't wanted just any dog. He told wammy he wanted an orphan dog, so that it would be a true Wammy's boy.

Wammy took him to an animal shelter the same day and let him choose. The west highland terrier Mello returned with was also chosen to match Near's hair.

* * *

  
Six weeks later, and Near had been silent for three days, staring emotionlessly into the distance. To Mello, who knew him better than anyone, this was Near inconsolably upset.

A shovel sat out in the garden; Wammy allowed anyone who wanted to attend to do so without discrimination, and over a dozen of the house residents had turned out in force.

They surrounded the pile of dirt and scattered white rose petals in the pouring rain. A wooden cross, hand inscribed with one word - Mine - marked the space.

"Serial killers often kill animals first," Near pointed out to B, his eyes fixed on the freshly turned dirt in front of him.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all blamed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I do this to myself? Oh, right, characterisation and writing exercise. Still, this is such a sad little fic. I'm in a morbid mood today it seems.

The other children were angry with him. They didn’t dare to say it. They wouldn’t do anything about it.

But they all blamed him.

Backup was used to it by now. He was the problem, the scapegoat, the one who would be blamed for all disasters at Wammy’s house.

No one could see. No one cared that he was growing up, that he was learning. All they saw was the bully, the one who tormented them.

He couldn’t stop. He had to be top dog at Wammy’s house, he had to be the one in control. If he wasn’t it would be A that would suffer. A, who was far to quiet and modest to be first rank but held the role anyway. A, who without his protection would be picked on by all of the other children, jealous that he was the first rank, the successor for L.

But all of the Wammy’s children were watching him with a different look now. They had always been frightened of him but he had never been hated like he was now, and all for the sake of a dog.

Minnie, as the house had called the west highland terrier, was not a house pet. Everyone knew it really belonged to Near, the sheep.

Everyone knew that Backup hated Near.

Near was just so infuriating. The way he pretended to be so perfect, even though Backup knew that he wasn’t. He was a nasty little self-absorbed child that was very good at pretending to be nice. Backup saw right through him. He hated him.

It hurt, that Near would be allowed to have a pet. Backup had always wanted a pet. He loved animals. He _remembered_ animals… well, kind of. He was too young before he came to Wammy house to really remember, but there was something there. A… familiarity, whenever he found a cat in the street. The feel of the animal’s fur beneath his fingers, the delight when a cat would snuggle in to his lap and purr. Animals did not judge, they didn’t see the bully.

Minnie, or Mine as Near called the dog – Backup was sure that the younger boy was just trying to make him angry by calling him that – didn’t judge either.

It wasn’t his fault.

Minnie was a good dog, but like any dog he liked his food. It had been a gradual process, tempting him out of Near’s room every night with treats. The terrier was fast, and she seemed to know not to let Backup catch her at night even though she would sit in his lap happily during the day, letting him pet and pamper her while the sheep played with his puzzles and ignored her.

Near didn’t deserve her. He didn’t even care for her properly.

Backup was the one who brushed her slightly wiry fur every single day. He was the one who would sneak her away during the day for her baths when her snowy white fur was dirty from the garden. He was the one who would let her out when she needed to go.

At night, he tried to catch her, to take her to his room. No matter how much he looked after her, she still stayed in Near’s room, slept under the covers in Near’s bed. Near didn’t look after her but still she had decided she preferred Near to Backup.

He had asked Roger for a pet of his own. He couldn’t understand why Near was allowed a pet when he was not. He was told that Minnie was a pet for all of them, and that would have to be enough. So if Minnie was meant to be for all of them, he had the right to take her to his room just for the night.

The day he managed to catch her, she squirmed when he picked her up and carried her quickly to his room but she wasn’t barking or growling to give him away. Still when he closed the door behind him A heard and opened one eye from his bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Shh,” Backup hurried to his bed, trying to get Minnie to settle down next to him under the covers. Minnie still squirmed but after a while she wormed her way down further under the covers and laid against the bend of the back of his legs which proved to be a suitable cocoon for her to feel safe in.

“You stole Minnie?”

“It’s not stealing if she belongs to all of us,” Backup argued. “Go back to sleep, it’s fine.”

“Near will be upset,” A reminded him.

“Let him be upset. I’ll give him a reason to be upset,” he warned, frowning right at A but not turning his back because if he moved he would disturb Minnie. “Really, A, it’ll be fine. I promise.”

Backup slept well that night. He couldn’t ever remember a time when he had slept so well before.

In the morning he was sure nothing was wrong. Minnie was curled up on the pillows, her wiry fur against the back of his head, and somehow he had been pushed by the small dog so that he was only just managing to remain on the very edge of the bed.

A was already awake, perched on the edge of his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest and biting at the end of one of his nails, looking anxiously at Backup and the little dog. Backup ignored him, even though he could see the tears forming in A’s eyes. There were times when he would humour A’s anxiety, but this was a silly reason to be so worried. Minnie was a house pet and if anyone questioned it he could pretend that the dog had come to the room of his own accord.

When Backup brought Minnie down to breakfast not even Near was angry. The sheep actually smiled at him when Minnie ran across the room to his favourite person, yapping for the rind from the bacon on Near’s plate. Even so, A still looked anxious.

“It’ll be fine,” Backup reminded him, and A just shook his head.

Later that day it had started. The dog had been sick, and suspicion turned to Backup. Everyone knew that Minnie had stayed in his room overnight. People questioned what he had done to Minnie as Roger whisked her away to the vet. They didn’t seem to care that Backup was as worried as the rest of them, as upset as the rest of them. In the end he had no choice but to punch Mello in the face after the boy accused him of poisoning the sweet little dog.

A had burst into tears then, and Backup had hurried them back to their room.

“It’s my fault,” A spoke in a small, quiet voice. “Backup, it’s my fault…”

“Of course it isn’t,” he had tried to reassure his friend, but no matter how hard he tried A just cried.

When A showed him the bag under the bed, the one he had been hoarding all of his Easter chocolate in, Backup had understood immediately.

When Roger came back to the house, he told them all that Minnie was really sick, and Backup saw the hatred that the other children were directing towards him.

It was unthinkable, to tell them that this was A’s fault. It wasn’t, not really. He was the one who had taken Minnie to his room that night, and he had known about A’s stash under the bed. Known, but forgotten.

He showed Roger the bag, pretended it was his own. He told him it was an accident, that he had not thought about the chocolate. It was the truth. He hoped it would help them to make Minnie better.

He couldn’t let A take the blame for this. He couldn’t let the others direct that hatred at A.

Backup was strong. He could take it.

A was fragile. He could break at any moment. If the numbers that Backup could see above his head were not changed, he would break sooner rather than later. He would never do anything to make that worse for A.

Two days later he hovered near a wooden cross in the grounds, ignoring the hatred directed at him from the children who had gathered there.

Near didn’t glare at him. The sheep was pretending to be so perfect, as always. He waited for all the others to leave before he struck his blow, driving the digger deep into Backup’s heart.

“Serial killers often kill animals first.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can say it. I'm mean.


End file.
